


I am, I am, I am

by sihaya13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, Depression, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:36:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7297882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sihaya13/pseuds/sihaya13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fear and darkness are not always short lived. But one can do an awful lot of living in the moments in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am, I am, I am

Fear and darkness are not short lived.

When it feels as if the whole world were crushing you from every side, fear and darkness can last an eternity.

Rose felt as if she were drowning. The waves rolled in from a distant shore, only to crash over her head, dragging her ever closer to the rocks. Sometimes, she longed for the waves to take her under, to obliterate her completely. Yet all day long, she kept swimming, and swimming, and swimming.

Sometimes she floated. For a few brief, almost blissful moments, she could pause amongst the chaos that surrounded her. Time would slow to almost nothing, and her breaths would come slow and even. She’d lift her head from the water and open her eyes to look up at the sky above. She had always liked the sky best not when it was completely blue, but when it was filled to the brim with the kind of clouds that were so white and so fluffy you became convinced that you could ride on them. She would dream about leaping out of the Ravenclaw tower and landing on one of these clouds, which would take her on a magical, wondrous adventure, the type you only ever read about in books.

Inevitably, just as she reached out her hand to touch one of the clouds, a particularly violent wave would come along, smashing her hand out of the way and beating the breath from her body, and she would have to fight to start swimming once more.

And then, one day, just as she was about to give up, there was an inexplicable break in the tumultuous waves, and calmness reigned over the oceans. The waves which had become her constant companions, almost her friends, simply vanished. The shock was so great she didn’t realise she no longer had to swim. For hours, and hours, and hours, she tirelessly flapped her limbs around in the water, projecting herself on an unknown course.

Eventually, she realised that she was in a different place to the one she had been for ever so long. She could no longer see the rocks she both dreaded and longed for, her new terrain was unfamiliar. She paddled to the shoreline she had arrived at, a beach reaching up to grassy, rolling hills.

She wandered the hills, as the hours and days and weeks went by. Slowly, the grass beneath her feet began to feel more like grass than water. Instead of the wet, cold, nonentity of the ocean, it became the springy, rubbery entity it was known to be. She could feel each individual blade bend as she stepped down on it, and spring half-heartedly back to attention as she removed her foot.

She remembered the things that made her happy, as even the smallest of joys soon caused overwhelming floods of happiness. Her soul sung with lightness, as the pleasant sensations of the world coursed throughout her body, and throughout her mind.

Even though the ocean was always in the corner of her eye, and the corner of her soul, and she knew she had many days and weeks and months of swimming left to do throughout her life, she revelled in the grass and the sand and the white fluffy clouds in the sky while they were there.

Fear and darkness are not always short lived. But one can do an awful lot of living in the moments in between.

For life is not measured in seconds, and minutes, and hours. Where would be the fun in that?

 

A/N: Title from Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar.


End file.
